


Captured In Wires

by Whiskyandtobacco



Series: Earthed [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Imprisonment, Mildly Dubious Consent, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:00:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whiskyandtobacco/pseuds/Whiskyandtobacco
Summary: Takes place mid-Living Conditions. Spike comes up a way to keep the Slayer out of his hair while he continues to hunt for the Gem of Amara. But who's really being held captive, in the end, when simmering urges come to a boil? Can be read as a standalone fic. Part II of Earthed, a six-part, AU, episodic retelling of season four in 10,000 word instalments.
Relationships: Spike/Buffy Summers
Series: Earthed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2176275
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Captured In Wires

_“You are lightning, dangerous unless captured in wires. You're fire - a warm light on a cold dark night to be sure, but also a conflagration that can destroy everything in its path.”_  
  
**― N.K. Jemisin, The Fifth Season**  
  
Buffy rubbed her eyes, but even after her vision cleared she was still dizzy and everything around her seemed foggy and blurred. Her head ached like she was experiencing 100 hangovers at once; had she blacked out last night? The last thing she remembered was finding Parker and Kathy talking in her room, then heading out on patrol.   
  
She was lying on a plasticy-feeling mattress; more like a gym tumble mat than a bed. The air blowing across her face felt hot and smelled strange and sulphurous. If air could ever be described as 'sinister', this definitely fit the bill.  
  
With what felt like a superhuman effort she hauled herself into a sitting position, then looked around at her surroundings. She was in a cage made from copper-coloured metal wire, beyond it was a large, dark cave criss-crossed with glowing fissures, which cast a strange, eldritch light. She struggled to her feet, slowly and painfully. She was so weak, her limbs didn't want to obey her. She'd not felt like this since...  
  
The Cruciamentum.  
  
No, not again, surely? She thought. Giles wouldn't put her through that a second time. He'd promised. And anyway, she hadn't even seen Giles for days, let alone given him the opportunity to hypnotise her with weird crystals.  
  
"Morning, Slayer," drawled a familiar voice, the words echoing in the weird, warm chamber.  
  
Buffy sighed, and shook her head in an attempt to clear it - again. Of course Spike was behind this. Of _course_ he was.  
  
"What have you done, Spike?" she said, her tone hard and unyielding.  
  
He sauntered into view, his hands pushed deep into the pockets of his leather duster, a cigarette dangling at the end of his lips. It bobbed up and down as he spoke.  
  
"Oh, you know. Just a bit of payback for every single time you've ever fucked up my plans. You won't be doing that again for a while."  
  
"What have you _done_?" she repeated, feeling suddenly cold, despite the close, airless atmosphere of the cave. She wrapped her arms around herself. She was wearing a sleeveless shirt with a cowl neck, paired with a long green and gold skirt. She was barefoot, and wondered what had become of the shoes she'd been wearing.  
  
Spike took a long drag on his cigarette and then dashed it to the floor, grinding it out under the heel of one heavy boot. Then he grinned, and tilted his head.  
  
"Might have encountered a disgruntled member of the Watcher's Council who might have offered to sell me quite a large quantity of that Slayer knockout serum that Rupes jabbed you with last year. Took delivery of it last week, hired a P'tyalin demon to sneak into your room each night and administer it, now here we are."  
  
"You're so dead," said Buffy, her voice low and menacing.  
  
"P'tyalins have numbing saliva," said Spike, clearly pleased by his own cleverness. "They also move silently. Little lick, little prick, then it headed back out of the window again. Easy as pie." He waggled his tongue at her. Buffy grimaced and turned away, thoroughly grossed out.  
  
"Bastard," she muttered. "You're disgusting, Spike."  
  
"Never pretended otherwise," replied Spike, glibly. "Anyway, less of the charming insults. It's time for your next dose."  
  
"Absolutely not. No. Way," said Buffy, folding her arms. "I won't let you."  
  
"How exactly you planning to stop me?" He pulled a syringe from the depths of his coat, and Buffy's eyes grew wide. She shook her head and huddled further back in the cage, forcing him to unlock it in order to reach her.  
  
As soon as he did, she tried to dart under his arm to escape, but her legs tangled together and she fell. He surprised her by catching her in his arms and lowering her gently onto the bed.  
  
"The serum's not going to kill you, Slayer. Neither am I, for that matter," he said, before unceremoniously plunging the needle into her shoulder. "You know full well it's harmless, it'll wear off in time. Just makes you more...manageable for a while. Means I might even let you out of this cage at some point, if you behave yourself."  
  
He locked her in again. Buffy rubbed the sore spot on her shoulder, glaring at him balefully. Then she frowned, replaying the last bit of the conversation in her head.  
  
"Wait, what do you mean, you're not going to kill me?" she asked.  
  
Spike shrugged, then turned away.

"Well, I am, just not yet. Had a flash of inspiration recently. If I kill you, much as I'd love to, a new Slayer gets called. Keep you here alive for a while...not so much. Get to go about my evil business uninterrupted for a change. And I have some very interesting plans afoot."  
  
Spike smirked, and Buffy's jaw dropped. She couldn't deny that he had a point. Then something occurred to her.  
  
"Well, if I go missing they'll call a new Slayer anyway. Er, I think?" she added, her brow furrowing.  
  
"Will they?" asked Spike. He looked at her over his shoulder, looking strangely open and watchful. "They didn't last time you did a runner and buggered off to god knows where. Your pals just took your place, tried to keep on top of things."  
  
"How do you know about that?" said Buffy.  
  
"Know a lot of things about you, Slayer," he replied, his blue eyes hooded. "But if you want specifics, the demons all noticed and they still talk about how enjoyable it was to have the run of the town. Which in turn led to me planning this little holiday for you. Oh, by the way, this is the bit where you say 'you won't get away with this Spike.'"  
  
Buffy pursed her lips, fighting the urge to respond. But she couldn't quite manage it, blurting out: "Well, you won't. My friends will find me."  
  
"Where do you think you are, luv?" he said, gesturing broadly at their surroundings.  
  
"I don't know, Demon Disney World?"  
  
"You're in a cavern right off the Hellmouth. Magic doesn't work down here; locator spells get all scrambled. No one's going to track you do..."  
  
A cheerful, incredibly loud "BLONDIE BEAR!" suddenly shot through the air like the crack of a whip, making Spike wince in a way that none of Buffy's punches to the gut ever had. He grimaced, then turned to face Harmony who promptly ran across the cave to fling herself into his arms.  
  
He dodged before she could envelop him in a hug, sidestepping lightly so she almost crashed into Buffy's cage.  
  
She wheeled on him, furious.  
  
"Spikey! That was mean!" she exclaimed with a pout. Despite the fairly dire situation she was in, Buffy couldn't stop herself from sniggering. Spike fixed her with a steely glare, then grabbed Harmony's sleeve and dragged her around the side of a rocky outcrop.  
  
"What are you doing here?" he hissed at her, his face an inch from hers.  
  
"I missed you," she said, sticking out her lower lip in a way that was presumably meant to be adorable and endearing, but it just annoyed him even more.  
  
"I'm busy," he huffed. Harmony's face tightened into a scowl.  
  
"With Buffy," she snapped, offended. "What does she have that I don't?"  
  
What, apart from a functioning brain? thought Spike. But he sensibly kept his mouth shut.  
  
"She's a prisoner, Harm. I need to keep an eye on her. I'll be sleepin' here for the foreseeable, but I'll still be around to oversee...things. You can let me know once our crew manage to break through into the...place they're trying to break into," he finished lamely, not wanting to give too much away with the Slayer in earshot.  
  
Harmony looked around at the rocky alcove, noting that he'd furnished it with a rather battered-looking mattress, a chair and a few other home comforts, including a large bottle of whisky, a carton of cigarettes and several novels, including Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six and at least two Danielle Steeles.  
  
"You're trying to get away from me!" replied Harmony, sounding outraged. Spike stroked her arm, soothing her.  
  
"No love. Jus' need you to keep an eye on the crypt. Make sure none of our minions do anything they shouldn't. You can be in charge while I'm down here, rule 'em with an iron fist. Make sure they're not slackin' off."  
  
She looked pleased at the idea. "Can I hit them?" she cooed.  
  
"Course," Spike replied, patting her on the head like an obedient dog.  
  
Harmony smiled, placated, then closed the distance between them, peppering his jaw and lips with insistent kisses. She wrapped her arms round his waist, rubbing herself against his complete lack of hard on, then pouted again.  
  
"Spikey, you're not even a bit excited?" she said. "I thought we could have a goodbye snuggle."  
  
They were interrupted by a burst of slightly hysterical laughter.  
  
"Slayer," Spike growled. "Stay out of this."  
  
"Oh, by all means," said Buffy from the cage, her voice sounding rough-edged and ragged. "Feel free to boink my idiotic, undead former classmate while I'm locked up right next to you and can hear everything you're both doing, that'll just be the cherry on the cake of this absolutely fantastic day and definitely won't scar me for life."  
  
"Shut up, Buffy," said Harmony, pouring as much scorn as possible into those four syllables. "You're just jealous because I've got a great boyfriend who writes me love poems and..."  
  
"HARMONY, shut up, now," said Spike, urgently.  
  
Buffy laughed again, even more manically. The Big Bad was a...poet? This was too good. She laughed so hard and for so long she started to feel dizzy and collapsed to the floor, taking huge, shuddering breaths. Harmony just looked confused, an expression she maintained the entire time she was being briskly shepherded out of the cave by Spike, whose own expression could be summed up as "absolutely thunderous."  
  
Buffy had recovered her composure by the time he got back, sans-Harmony. He glared at her.  
  
"Not a word, Slayer," he snarled. He vamped out, but she didn't bat an eyelid. It reminded her of the way a cat would fluff itself up to appear more intimidating and larger than it really was.  
  
"Don't worry, Spikey," said Buffy with false sweetness. She batted her eyelashes. "I won't tell anyone about your lurrrve poetry."  
  
He scowled. "Wasn't for Harmony anyway," he said. "She found it in a box of my things and assumed it was."  
  
She pulled a quizzical face. "Who was it for, then?"  
  
Spike let the question hang in the air for a while, until Buffy thought he'd just chosen to ignore her, then said, simply: "My little sister. Wrote it after she died, read it at the funeral. If Harm was brighter she'd have realised 'death found strange beauty on that cherub brow' didn't refer to her."  
  
Buffy caught herself just before she said she was sorry for his loss, clamping her lips together to stifle the urge, steadfastly refusing to offer sympathy to a bloodsucking, murderous, soulless vampire.  
  
"So, what now?" she said, after a while.  
  
"What now is you shut up and I get some sodding kip," Spike snapped, turning to walk into his little den.  
  
\---  
  
There were a few blissful seconds after Buffy woke up where she didn't remember where she was, or what had happened. Then the reality of her situation came crashing back, along with a very urgent problem.  
  
Spike had left a couple of bottles of water in the cage; Buffy had drunk them both and now deeply regretted it.  
  
She shouted his name, and when he didn't appear she took off her metal bracelet and began to run it up and down the thick wires, the resulting noise echoing loudly in the enclosed space.  
  
Spike appeared, shirtless and barefoot, his hair sticking up in fluffy curls. He looked sleep-addled and angry, not to mention incredibly, unbelievably chiselled and lithe. Buffy's eyes widened for a second, her lips parting in surprise as she drank him in. Then she remembered her problem and went back to making as much of a racket as possible.  
  
"Oi! Stop that, now," he ordered, rubbing his face. "Bloody hell woman, can't a bloke get any rest around here?"  
  
"Spike," hissed Buffy. "I need to...go to the...I need to pee."  
  
He scoffed at her, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Go in the corner, then. Can't believe you woke me up for this."  
  
He turned to leave, and she threw her metal bracelet through a gap in the wire mesh, aiming it at the back of his head. It bounced off his skull with a satisfying 'thunk'. Spike turned around, eyes flashing yellow.  
  
"Oh you did not just do that," he snarled.  
  
"Spike, I am not going to pee in a cage," she snapped back. "Let me out, now."  
  
"How's that going to help?" he replied, frowning. He had to admit, he'd forgotten all about bodily functions when he came up with the whole 'hold the Slayer captive indefinitely' plan.  
  
Buffy let out a small yell of frustration before slumping to the ground, eyes locked with his.  
  
"Vampires have a pretty good sense of smell, right?" she said.  
  
"Er, yeah," said Spike, suspiciously. He could kind of tell where this was going.  
  
"And you're sleeping about three feet away from this cage?"  
  
This time, he didn't respond. He just held her gaze for a while, before finally letting out a sound that was half snort of derision, half annoyed sigh.  
  
"Fine, you win," he grudgingly admitted. "Not exactly keen to deal with human stink. Come with me, there's a...place."  
  
He unlocked the cage and helped her to her feet. She was wobbly from the Cruciamentum drugs, and when she tried to let go of his arm she almost fell, so she reluctantly hung on. He led her to an opening in the side of the cavern, which in turn led to a slick-floored, humid tunnel. After a while, it started to slope downhill before opening out into a large chamber where yellowish stalactites had joined with stalagmites, creating strange, waxy columns.  
  
The cave was flooded with emerald-green, mineral-filled water, and steam rose from the surface. There were rocky shelves, gaps and holes dotted around, as well as dark corners that were much more private than her other option.  
  
As bathrooms went, she supposed it would have to do. The noise of running water had made things more urgent, and she shooed Spike away. He went reluctantly, and her tingling vampire senses made it clear he hadn't retreated too far.  
  
Buffy snuck behind a far-flung stalagmite to take care of her most pressing issue, then returned to the hot spring. It looked very inviting. She snuck a glance at the cave entrance, but there was no sign of Spike.  
  
She weighed up her options for a minute, then quickly shucked off her shirt and skirt combo, leaving her underwear on in a slight nod to modesty, then hopped into the water. It came up to her collarbone, and was almost too hot to bear. She yelped involuntarily, and a familiar white-blonde head poked around the corner, scanning the room until he spotted her submerged in the glittering jade pool.   
  
As soon as Spike realised she was only wearing her skimpy bra and panties, his eyebrows practically hit the ceiling. He looked away, quickly, then risked a second glance in her direction.  
  
"Spike! Go away," she scolded. His face darkened immediately.  
  
"Didn't bring you here for a bloody spa day, Slayer. Get out of there," he glowered at her, trying to ignore the way the droplets of water were glistening like jewels on her bronzed shoulders, or the way her breasts were bobbing up and down. He bit his lip, then turned away again.  
  
“Make me” she said, bluntly, trying to ignore the frisson of excitement that zinged down her spine as she said the words. She knew she was pushing her luck; potentially forcing a confrontation, but she didn't care. She was angry, dirty, weak and generally outraged. He wanted to keep her down here? Fine. But she wouldn't make it easy for him.  
  
Spike's jaw twitched, and his eyes narrowed. He slowly walked across to the water's edge until he was looming right above her. Buffy felt incredibly exposed, and fought the urge to cover herself with her hands, remembering a little too late that the thin material of her bra was pretty much see-through when it got wet.  
  
She swallowed, but continued to look up at him defiantly, raising her head, wondering what he would do.  
  
They stood like that for what seemed like forever. Eventually, Spike turned away, a hard-to-read look on his face.  
  
"Fine, piss about in here all you want," he said. "I'm off. Don't think about tryin' to escape, these Hellmouth tunnels are a maze, you'd wander for days before dying."  
  
She watched the pale muscles bunch and ripple in his back as he strode away, his oh-so-tight jeans riding low on his hips. Buffy couldn't help but stare at his perfect, firm ass, which in turn led her eye to wander up to the inviting, deep indentation just above his sacrum. She was still staring as he rounded the corner and disappeared.  
  
He was not attractive. Definitely not. She was not going to let her mind wander down that path, even for a second. He was extremely evil, he'd kidnapped her in a seriously icky and underhand way, and she hated him. End of story.  
  
But as she floated in the soft, warm water she found her traitorous mind wandering anyway, and closed her eyes.  
  
\---  
  
Buffy's clothes clung damply to her curves as she made her way back towards the main cavern, shivering slightly. She'd forgotten that she didn't have a towel when she'd impulsively jumped into the water, and now she regretted it. Her hair was dripping down her chest, turning her white shirt almost as see-through as her bra.  
  
As she squelched into view, Spike looked up from the book he was reading. He was lolling on the mattress, still shirtless, and he tilted his head and raised an eyebrow as he took in the bedraggled sight in front of him.  
  
"Pleased with your decision, Slayer?" he drawled. She fixed him with a steely glare, then reached up to wring more water out of her hair. It splattered on the rocky ground.  
  
"Yes," she said, lying.  
  
"So, I suppose you won't want to change into this, then?" he said, throwing one of his trademark black T-shirts in her direction. She stretched out a hand and plucked it out of the air, frowning. It smelled fresh and clean. More importantly, it was completely dry, unlike her soggy outfit.  
  
She acknowledged his peace offering with a tight little nod, then snuck back into the tunnel to strip off her top, skirt and soaking bra, noting with relief that the black tee was long enough to cover her butt - but only just. She left her wet panties on just in case; she couldn't face accidentally flashing him.  
  
Buffy padded back into the cave, very aware of how little she was wearing. Having said that, it felt incredibly nice to be warm, clean and no longer damp - well, mostly, anyway.  
  
She stretched her wet things over a nearby rock to dry. It wouldn't take long: the air in the cave was hot and arid. Then she just hovered awkwardly beside the cage, reluctant to voluntarily incarcerate herself, but equally she didn't have anywhere else to pass the time. Spike looked up from his book again.  
  
"What are you doing?" he said, a note of impatience creeping into his tone.  
  
"It's uncomfortable in there. I need..."  
  
Before she could finish, Spike threw his book on the bed and stood up, then grabbed the thick, black comforter from the bed and shoved it into her arms before giving a mock gentlemanly bow and gesturing towards the cage.  
  
Buffy took the hint and shuffled inside, then wrapped the quilt around herself before curling up on the mat, which was slightly smaller than a queen-sized mattress. Spike locked her in then disappeared, leaving Buffy alone with her increasingly confused thoughts. She had just been about to ask for a blanket. How had he known what she was about to say?  
  
\---  
  
She'd fallen asleep again, her bright gold hair fanned out on the dark coverlet, her slim body curled into a ball: long, tanned legs tucked against her chest.  
  
Spike wasn't sure how long he'd been watching her. There was something incredibly captivating about the way her chest rose and fell as she dozed, not to mention the way his T-shirt barely covered her coltish, suntanned thighs.  
  
Even with the Cruciamentum drugs dulling most of her strength, she shimmered with inate vitality. Asleep, she looked harmless and enchanting, like a tiny flame - but her unleashed power was like a wildfire. It's why he needed the Gem of Amara, it'd even the playing field a bit. This one wasn't a Slayer so much as the bloody devil in a B-cup.  
  
She'd almost stumbled upon his digging operation twice now when she was out on patrol, it was making the fledges he'd roped in as free labour increasingly skittish, so he'd hatched this plot in a bid to get her out of the way while they worked. Once he had what he needed, she could go free again - so that he could kill her under a bright, blazing sky.   
  
It wasn't long before Buffy began to stir, her senses warning her about the vampire staring at her from a few feet away. She sat up, slowly, rubbing her stiff neck. Cage life definitely didn't agree with her. She glared at Spike.  
  
"What are you staring at?" she groused, her temper about as far from sunny as it was possible to be.  
  
"You, obviously," he replied, nonplussed. "Got you breakfast, if you want it."  
  
She looked at him, then down to his hands, pulling an almost comically puzzled face when she spotted the danish he was holding.  
  
"What the hell?" she said. "Where did you get that?"  
  
"Does it matter?" he replied, passing it through the cage door. She just shrugged and started to nibble on the pastry, small flakes drifting down to land on her chest.  
  
"I suppose a coffee was out of the question?" she asked, more perkily.  
  
"Don't push your luck, Slayer," Spike replied, turning to leave again.  
  
"Or a toothbrush? Or a towel? Or..."  
  
"It's not the bloody Hilton, pet. You're a prisoner, and in case you're wondering, no, vampires don't follow the Geneva convention. Now shut up and let me get back to my book. Gabriella the nun just fell in love with Father Joe Connors."  
  
His duster swished behind him as he took himself back to his alcove and the battered Danielle Steele novel that Buffy suddenly realised she'd read before. It was one of her mom's.  
  
"It doesn't work out!" she yelled as loudly as she could. "Father Joe commits suicide and then Gabriella has a miscarriage."  
  
She smiled as she heard a yell of utter rage, followed by the sound of a book being thrown, hard, against a rock wall.  
  
Spike reappeared and rushed at the cage, then knelt and reached through the bars, grabbing her ankles and tugging them so that she fell flat on her back with a yelp of surprise.  
  
He suddenly found himself staring at a skimpy pair of dark red panties, edged with delicate lace. They curved delectably over her smooth, bare mound, barely covering it. The dark hollows where her thighs met her outer lips were as soft, smooth and tanned as the rest of her, and he suddenly found himself wondering what she'd taste like if he ran his tongue over the delicate flesh.  
  
He jumped back, startled at the ideas that were rushing into his head, and Buffy scrambled backwards, pulling the short T-shirt back down.  
  
"Spike!" she exclaimed, sounding outraged. Her face was flushed. He turned away, rubbing the back of his neck, trying to control the unexpected and debilitating rush of lust that was surging through him.  
  
Buffy felt completely weird. His lunging grab through the cage had scared her, and then the hungry look that crossed his face when he was staring - pretty openly - at her crotch had left her feeling embarrassed, but also kind of...hot? Then she remembered the way he'd looked without his shirt, and the temperature seemed to ramp up even more.  
  
"Can...can you pass me my clothes, now. Please?" she stammered. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, then nodded and went to retrieve them from the warm stone. Spike turned his back as she wiggled into her bra, shirt and skirt, then she cleared her throat, holding out the T-shirt she'd borrowed, offering it up to him.  
  
He looked at her for a long minute, his expression guarded and inscrutable. He shook his head.  
  
"Keep it," he said. "Got plenty. Use it as a bloody towel if you want, if it stops you complainin'."  
  
He unlocked the cage, then stepped away and walked back into his 'room', pausing to pick up the book he'd thrown away in anger. He frowned down at it, then brushed off some crushed stone that had gathered on the spine.  
  
Buffy felt strangely bad that she'd spoiled it for him. Various emotions flickered across her face as she fought the urge to apologise. Instead she turned and strolled towards the tunnel that led to the water-filled cave.   
  
\---  
  
She tried to escape, because of course she did. She wouldn't be Buffy Summers if she didn't ignore a piece of advice that directly contradicted something she wanted to do. Sure, Spike was turning out to be a much better roommate than the one she had on the surface - he hadn't played 'Believe' by Cher once the whole time she'd been down here, for one thing - but she thought she should at least try and make her way home.  
  
It had been a big mistake. Colossal. Huge.  
  
After making her way to the very back of the water-filled cave, she'd shimmied through a narrow crack in the rock, which in turn opened up into a claustrophobic tunnel. She'd followed it for a while until it branched in two. She'd gone left, for no real reason other than it looked like it might slope slightly uphill. It didn't. Instead, she was soon confronted with four more openings.  
  
Like an idiot, she pressed on.  
  
Time quickly lost all meaning. Buffy walked, and turned, and climbed, then slid. At one point she found herself on a narrow ledge that jutted out over a yawning chasm. Strange shapes swirled in the depths. She pressed her back against the rock and inched along until she reached the tunnel on the other side, holding her breath until she was safely across.  
  
She took a few more wobbly steps and then slid to the ground, her head in her hands. She was so thirsty; she would have taken on all of the vampires in Sunnydale at once for just one sip of water. Her head felt like it was full of cotton wool and for the first time since she'd embarked on her bid for freedom she actually contemplated the possibility she was going to die down here, in the suburbs of hell, lost, exhausted and alone.  
  
Buffy hauled herself to her feet again, determined not to give up, and continued down the tunnel. It was drier than some of the others she'd wandered down, with fewer red, glowing cracks in the walls. She limped along it hopefully, her bare feet sore and cut to ribbons by the rough, jagged volcanic rock underfoot. Then the tunnel opened out into a cave, which was ringed with not two, but five dark entrances. Five choices, all of which might lead her further into this labyrinth of madness and misery.  
  
It was the last straw. She put her head in her hands and began to sob.  
  
"It's OK, Slayer, you can turn off the waterworks," said Spike, his tone more gentle than she'd ever heard it.  
  
Buffy wheeled round, unsure whether he was even real. She'd been wandering for what felt like millennia. Maybe she'd gone mad? He might be an illusion.  
  
She reached out and prodded him in the chest, hard.  
  
"Ow!" he said, affronted. "That hurt."  
  
"Stupid vampire," she choked out in-between relieved sobs, then surprised them both by hurling herself into his arms. He froze for a moment, then he drew her into a tight bear hug, holding her close as she wept into his shirt.  
  
"You daft bloody bint," said Spike, softly. "Told you not to wander off, said you'd get lost."  
  
He pulled away and held her at arms length, attempting to look stern, but Buffy could see the relief flickering in his eyes. A strong, incredibly freaksome urge to kiss him overcame her, but just blinked and swallowed instead, pulling herself together.  
  
"Clearly I didn't believe you," she said with a shrug. He shook his head, wondering how any human could be so relentlessly stubborn.  
  
"Come on," he said. "It's a bloody long way back."  
  
She hesitated, and he looked back at her over his shoulder.  
  
"You can't walk any further, can you?" he said, surprising her. "Should have figured that: the only reason I managed to track you down is by following your footprints."  
  
Her bleeding, injured feet, of course. He'd have been able to smell the blood, even if he couldn't see it.  
  
"I'll carry you," he said, firmly, and Buffy froze like a deer in the headlights. She shook her head. Being carried, held - that wasn't going to do anything to help the weird feelings she was having.  
  
"No, Spike," she replied.  
  
"Yes, Slayer," he replied, then grabbed her around the waist unceremoniously, pulling her close, before sliding his arm behind her legs and lifting her effortlessly into the air like a bridegroom carrying his new wife over the threshold.  
  
Instinctively, she put her arms around his neck. Their faces were so close together, and Buffy found herself staring at his full, slightly dry lips, taking shallow breaths, her heart battering against the walls of her chest. Spike sensed her arousal and froze, but before anything could happen she'd turned her head away from him to hide her blushes.  
  
She didn't demand he put her down, so he just walked back the way he'd come with her cradled in his arms. After a few minutes, she rested her head on his shoulder. Soon, she fell asleep, breathing deeply, little huffs of warm air caressing the sensitive skin on his neck, making him shiver. He felt his body - well, his cock, mainly - start to respond to her intoxicating closeness and gritted his teeth, forcing the thoughts away yet again, refusing to acknowledge how she made him feel.  
  
He'd find the Gem, he'd use it to kill her in an epic fight to the death, and that would be that. He'd be free of her then.  
  
He squared his shoulders and tensed his jaw, trying, and failing, to ignore how unhappy the idea of a world without his captivating, beautiful, rebellious prisoner made him as he continued his long, dull trudge through the tunnels.  
  
\---  
  
Buffy woke up in pitch darkness with something touching her face, and started to thrash around, instantly panicked, until she finally realised it was a blanket of some kind. She pulled it down and found herself looking into a pair of azure eyes that were just a few centimetres from her own.  
  
Spike jumped back at the same time as Buffy sat up, increasing the distance between them.  
  
"'Lo, Slayer," he murmured, warily.  
  
She looked down, and realised he'd put her in the bed. In his bed, she corrected. Well, mattress in a rocky alcove on the floor of a weird underground cave, but still. She looked up at him, puzzled.  
  
"What happened?" she said.  
  
"What do you mean?" asked Spike, guardedly.  
  
"Why am I...how did I end up in..."  
  
"Oh right. I carried you back. You've been asleep for more than a day. Thought you'd be more comfortable..." he trailed off, looking a bit sheepish. He looked at the back of his hands, a bit lost for words.  
  
Buffy tilted her head to one side, stretching her stiff muscles, noticing the way Spike's eyes were instantly drawn to her neck, and the vital thrum of her life's blood just below the surface. His eyes skittered away when he realised she'd caught him looking.  
  
She was so sore after her long period of unconsciousness. Had he really carried her all that way, for hours and hours, then tenderly put her to bed? It was such a weird thought. She pushed it away as quickly as she could, then ran her hand through her hair, grimacing at how gross and greasy it felt.  
  
Spike noticed, and stepped away for a moment, returning with...was that a towel? An honest to god towel? And shampoo? She could have kissed him, then remembered he was the reason she was in this mess in the first place, and quickly turned her delighted smile into a much more appropriate disapproving frown.  
  
"Gimme," she said, reaching to snatch them out of Spike's grasp.  
  
"You're welcome," he said, sarcastically. She narrowed her eyes.  
  
"I'm going to get cleaned up," she said. "Do not follow me...please."  
  
"Only if you promise not to do another bloody runner," he replied. Now it was his turn to glare disapprovingly.  
  
They scowled at each other as Buffy got to her feet, her legs unsteady. She winced slightly and Spike moved to take her arm. She shook it off, shaking her head.  
  
"Nuh uh, I don't need your help," she said.  
  
"Could have fooled me," snapped Spike. "You'd be as dead as a doornail if I hadn't found you."  
  
"I wouldn't have been in that situation in the first place if you hadn't drugged and kidnapped me!" shouted Buffy, outraged. "So forgive me if I don't make with the thanks routine. My mom's going to be worried sick, my friends all probably think I'm dead...are you really surprised I tried to escape? You're an idiot, Spike."  
  
She stomped off down the tunnel before he had the chance to react. A very unfamiliar feeling was roiling and churning deep in his chest. A sort of ache, tinged with unease. Guilt wasn't quite the right word for it, he'd not felt that emotion for a long time. No, it was more a sort of yearning, gnawing sense of...what? Shame? Surely not. What did he have to be ashamed of? He was a vampire, doing vampire things. It'd be like being ashamed of...lurking.  
  
He shook his head to clear it and then stomped off towards another, hidden tunnel, one that led up and out of the cave system. It was the middle of the night on the surface; he needed to check on how the search for the Gem was going, and put a bit of much needed distance between him and the Slayer.  
  
\---  
  
Buffy's hands were puckered from their long immersion in the water when she finally climbed out of the pool. She'd been floating around for at least two hours, soaking away some of the various aches and pains she'd accumulated on her long underground trek through the bowels of the Hellmouth. She started the painstaking process of untangling her hair without a brush, sitting naked on a rock with one leg folded beneath her, feeling a little bit like a mermaid.  
  
She felt the back of her neck prickle, and leapt up, grabbing the too-small towel and wrapping it around herself half a second before Spike rounded the corner. He jumped when he saw she wasn't dressed, and took a step backwards.  
  
"What are you doing?" said Buffy, furiously.  
  
"Been gone a while. Came back and you were nowhere to be seen. Thought I should check you were OK," he looked positively bashful, staring down at the floor.  
  
"I'm fine," said Buffy, a little more fiercely than she intended. The towel didn't stretch all the way around her body, it left a wide bare strip that showed everything from the curve of her boob, to her waist, hip and a large portion of one thigh.  
  
"I'll let you get dressed," he stammered, turning his back. "Just wanted to let you know I've passed a message to your mum and your mates, let them know you're alive."  
  
"What?" said Buffy, closing the distance between them and reaching up with the hand that wasn't currently clutching the towel, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him round to face her.  
  
"You went to see my mother?" she said, disbelief clouding her voice. He shook his head.  
  
"Just popped a note through the door. Came clean, said I'd got you but that you'd be released unharmed in time. Couldn't really think of anything else to tell them. I don't know your life well enough to make something up."  
  
Buffy pursed her lips. On one hand she was still very, very angry that he was holding her prisoner. On the other, she hadn't seriously expected him to do something like that. It scrambled her brain a bit, threw into question everything she thought she knew about vampires. When Angel lost his soul, he tried to torment her. Spike was being...  
  
Nope, enough of that, she thought. She wasn't sure what Spike was being, definitely not nice, that's for sure, but whatever it was it was best not to dwell on it. Instead, she just blinked and stepped back, trying to pretend she hadn't noticed the way his blue eyes had dropped to her chest oh-so-briefly as she'd moved away.  
  
He left her to get dressed, and she mulled everything over in her mind as she wiggled back into her clothes. She'd washed her bra and panties but they weren't dry, so she left them hanging on a handy stalagmite.  
  
Her dirty, mineral-stiffened shirt felt rough and uncomfortable against her bare breasts and a sudden wave of fury crashed over her, entirely erasing the vague feeling of gratitude she'd been feeling a few moments before. She was being held against her will, drugged, trapped in a cage and she didn't even have any clean clothes to wear. At least in prison they handed out uniforms. The whole situation was totally humiliating. She stalked into the main cave and strode over to where Spike was lying on the mattress, engrossed in his Danielle Steele novel.  
  
She grabbed it out of his hands and held it behind her back, walking slowly backwards until she was outside the cage.  
  
He was on his feet in a flash, coming after her.  
  
"For fuck sake, Slayer, what're you doing? Gabriella's just decided to go and meet her parents and ask them why they abandoned her."  
  
"Shut up, Spike," said Buffy, her green eyes flashing. "You're going to let me go, now, or I'm going to kill you."  
  
"How do you propose to do that, exactly?" he said, raising an eyebrow sardonically. "Go to the stake shop in the corner over there, pick yourself up a few handy weapons? Face it, love, you're stuck here until I'm ready to let you go. And I'm not. Just relax, and look at this as a short, relaxing holiday before your inevitable demise."  
  
As if to double down on just how infuriating he was being, he finished his speech by holding out his hand for the book. Buffy fixed him with a death stare in response, breathing heavily in quick, rage-filled pants. She held up the book, then grabbed as much of the final chapter as she could and ripped it out before throwing the mutilated novel back at him.  
  
"You bloody bitch," he snarled, grabbing her wrist and trying to snatch the pages out of her hand. She gripped them as tightly as she could, hanging on to them for dear life. With a grunt of effort he tore them free, leaving several fragments of paper behind, and swore again - failing to notice Buffy's left hand as it swung and connected with the side of his head.  
  
Spike staggered slightly, caught by surprise, although the blow was about a fifth as strong as it would have been under normal circumstances. He instinctively lifted his arm to retaliate, but froze with it hovering in mid-air, his whole body vibrating with frustration, rage and...  
  
Quick as lightning, he grabbed Buffy's forearms and yanked her forwards, crushing his mouth against hers, pouring all of his lust and pent-up passion and desire and anger and confusion and want into a bone-melting kiss. She let out a little "oomph" of surprise, which Spike felt as well as heard, her breath hot against his cool lips.  
  
Buffy's skin was on fire, electricity danced up and down her spine as he kissed her, the sparks eventually earthing themselves between her legs. Then he buried his hands in her hair and she almost dissolved, all sense flying out of the window. She started to kiss him back just as forcefully, her clit throbbing and pulsing in time with the exploratory thrusts and darts of his tongue. Occasionally he'd change his approach and nibble on her lower lip, grazing the soft skin with his blunt teeth, before plunging back into her mouth again.  
  
She had no idea it was possible to be kissed like this. It should be illegal to be kissed like this. She was so turned on.  
  
Eventually she pulled back, panting, her head spinning and the entire area between her legs aching with absolute, all-consuming, complete and utter need. Nothing mattered at that moment, just this beautiful creature and the incredible way he made her feel.  
  
"Slayer," he murmured, before dropping his head to her neck and kissing her just beneath her ear, sending another taser-like bolt of lust arcing through her, enhanced by the sheer, unadulterated danger of having such a powerful vampire so close to her jugular. She pushed him backwards, roughly and urgently, and he looked confused, then his face twisted into a knowing smile, his tongue darting out to lick his slightly swollen lips.  
  
"In a hurry, pet?" he purred, then let her steer him into the cage before pushing him down onto the thick mat that had been doubling as her bed. He pulled her down so she was lying on his chest, then suddenly reversed their positions so that he was on top, his hands on either side of her shoulders, his face inches from hers.  
  
"You sure about this, love?" he asked, emotions that were way more human than she was expecting blazing in the depths of his aquamarine eyes. She bit her lip and nodded sharply, not trusting herself to speak. She could feel the liquid heat between her thighs and wondered how he could possibly doubt how much she wanted him. She reached up to pull him down on top of her, at the same time lifting her hips to brush against his incredibly noticeable erection, undulating against him in a way that, she hoped, would tell him all he needed to know.  
  
Now it was Spike's turn to gasp in surprise.  
  
"Fuck, Buffy," he groaned.  
  
"Mmm," was all she could manage in response, as his hard, denim-clad cock rubbed her otherwise naked crotch through the thin material of her floaty, floral California-autumn skirt. She moaned at the sensation, and he started to grind against her in earnest, bearing down on her sensitive flesh, hitting her over-sensitive clit with every thrust.  
  
"Oh God," she said, leaning up to kiss him, and he groaned into her mouth, his long, pale fingers gradually inching up her thighs, pushing up her skirt until it was bunched around her waist and she was completely exposed to his gaze.  
  
He sat back and took her in, running his eyes appreciatively over her gorgeous long legs, toned thighs and perfect, downy quim. She'd clearly shaved not long before she'd been captured; now the hair was growing back, a faint, dun-coloured covering. Not a natural blonde, then, he thought, amused.  
  
Buffy cleared her throat, interrupting his appraisal. She sat up, feeling suddenly coy and bashful.  
  
"Like what you see?" she asked, much more confidently than she was feeling. Spike raised an eyebrow and his lips curled in a wanton, sultry smile.  
  
"Love it, pet. Wondering what your cunt will taste like, in fact. The smile turned into a grin, and for the second time in two days he grabbed her ankles and tugged until she was sprawled flat on her back. He hooked her legs over his shoulders, then pressed his face against her slick, buttery-soft folds, breathing her in. She was soaking wet and smelled musky and sweet.  
  
He ran his tongue over her inner thigh, making her gasp and shudder. Then he nipped at the side of her mound - hard - surprising her, holding her down as she squirmed and tried to wriggle away. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he dipped his head and lapped at the delicious juices that were pooling between her legs, sliding his tongue inside her briefly before moving up to suckle on her clit.  
  
Buffy cried out at the intense sensation, her hands moving to rest on the back of his head as he explored her with his mouth. He set a fast, delighted pace, licking her in long, smooth strokes that soon had her mewling and thrashing against the unyielding mattress. Just when she felt she couldn't take any more, he brought one hand to her wet opening and slid two fingers deep inside, curling them, making sure he hit the sensitive bundle of nerves he knew he'd find there.  
  
Everything suddenly heightened and swam into focus as he continued to fuck her with his hand, using all of his hundred plus years of expertise, playing her as if she were a musical instrument that he'd been learning all of his life. After a few increasingly forceful thrusts he took her clit between his teeth - as gently as a lioness closing her jaws around her cub - then moved his head from side-to-side, nuzzling into her, sending her over the edge.  
  
Her vision whited out as she came with a scream that vibrated the rock around them, echoing around the cave. She arched her back and clamped her thighs around his head in a way that would have probably crushed a mortal man. Eventually she relaxed, and Spike was able to prise himself free and crawl up her body, his mouth and chin glistening with her come.  
  
She opened her eyes to find him poised above her, eyes half-closed, looking almost insufferably pleased with himself.  
  
"Well, this is certainly a better way to pass the time than readin', Slayer. Guess I'll let you off the hook."  
  
"Shut up, Spike," she said, then kissed him roughly, commandingly, pushing herself up and lifting him with her. She was certainly feeling stronger.  
  
Buffy was practically sitting in his lap by the time she broke the kiss. She looked into his eyes for a moment, then reached down to grasp the hem of his T-shirt, pulling it up and over his head in one smooth motion. She threw it to one side and then looked down at the incredible, mesmerising landscape she found there.  
  
God, he was gorgeous. Like, Calvin Klein centerfold gorgeous. For a brief second she was pleased he was immortal; the idea of that incredible, work-of-art chest lasting forever seemed right, somehow. He was like a Michaelangelo sculpture. She ran her hands over his pecs, then trailed her fingers down to his waist before finally skating over his flat, toned stomach.  
  
His muscles contracted under her feather-like touch, and he sighed, watching her explore his body, a cocky, seductive smirk curling his lips.  
  
"Like what _you_ see?" he said smugly, throwing her words back at her.  
  
Buffy responded by dipping her head and lightly biting his nipple, making him hiss in surprise and pleasure.  
  
"Uh huh," she mumbled against his cool skin. She moved across and ran her tongue across the other one, not wanting it to feel left out. At the same time, she rotated her hips, grinding down onto his very prominent erection, smiling when she heard him groan.  
  
"Bloody hell, gonna make me come in my pants at this rate, love," he muttered.  
  
"Mmm, well we can't have that, can we?" said Buffy, a glint in her eye. She shuffled backwards along his thighs, then undid his belt, hoping he wouldn't notice how much her fingers were shaking. He lay back, propping himself up on his elbows, watching as she first unzipped him, then reached in to pull out his long, thick, hard cock.  
  
It was much bigger than Buffy was expecting. She looked up at him, uncertain, her resolve wavering - although her slightly treacherous hand continued to stroke him despite the alarm bells that were ringing in her brain.  
  
Spike's look of unbridled lust turned to concern, and he reached down to stroke her cheek. Another surprisingly tender gesture, which Buffy filed away for later contemplation.  
  
"What's the matter, pet?" he asked.  
  
"Um, well. If you must know, I've never actually done this before," she said, bashfulness lending even more colour to her already flushed cheeks.  
  
Spike looked puzzled.  
  
"What, had sex? I thought...Angel said..."  
  
Buffy shook her head, wincing slightly at the mention of Angel. "No, I mean I've never..." oh God, he was going to make her say it, wasn't he? "I've never gone down on a guy before."  
  
Spike tilted his head and cocked his scarred eyebrow, looking even more sensuous and appealing than he had a moment before. "Is that so?" he asked. "Well, there's no time like the present, is there luv?"  
  
"What if I'm not good at it?" she said in a half-whisper.  
  
He looked amused, but there was kindness rather than mockery in his pretty eyes.  
  
"You'll have your hot, gorgeous little mouth on my cock, sweetheart. It's not possible to get that wrong," he responded, his voice as smooth as honey. Then he frowned slightly as an unwelcome memory of Harmony crossed his mind. "Well, it's very unlikely, anyway."  
  
Buffy stared at him for a moment, her expression impossible to read. Then she shrugged, licked her lips and leaned forward, taking him into her mouth as deeply as she could.  
  
"Fuck," he yelled, his head flying back to collide with the wire mesh behind him. He grabbed the back of her head and she froze, afraid that he would try to force his cock deeper into her throat, but he just stroked her hair gently, muttering filthy endearments.  
  
"Oh yes love, suck my dick, your mouth feels so fucking good, gonna make me come so hard baby," he groaned, his hips rising and falling with every bob of her head. Then she remembered a tip she'd spotted in one of her mom's magazines and brought her hand up below her mouth to cup and play with his balls. He yelped and she felt his cock jerk against her tongue.  
  
"Christ, Slayer," he gasped. "Thought you said hadn't done this before."  
  
She guessed from his reaction that she must be on the right lines, and redoubled her efforts, bringing her other hand into play and gripping the base of his shaft, sliding it up and down until her palm was slick with her saliva and his pre-cum.  
  
His balls tightened in her hand and she sensed he was close, she closed her eyes, preparing for something that she wasn't entirely sure she was ready for, then found herself roughly pushed away. Her mouth slipped off his throbbing cock with a wet little pop, her eyes widening in surprise and alarm.  
  
"Did...did I do something wrong?" she said, her voice small. He took hold of her shoulders, stroking them, reassuring her.  
  
"No, pet, not at all. You were too good, if anything. Just don't want to shoot my load before I've made you come again, that's all."  
  
Before she could respond, he crushed his mouth against hers in a brilliant, blazing kiss, tasting himself on her pretty, coral-pink lips. Then he pushed her long skirt above her hips again and lifted her up in his strong arms so she was positioned right over him. She was dripping wet, and he could smell her fresh arousal perfuming the air.  
  
"Think you quite liked sucking me off, didn't you luv," he said in a hoarse, rough tone. He was close to losing control, and they both knew it.  
  
Buffy didn't trust herself to speak. Instead, she just nodded, then leaned forward to rest her forehead against his before slowly lowering herself down.  
  
They both gasped as he entered her, her pussy throbbing almost painfully as it stretched wide to accommodate him. She hissed at the new sensation, and he felt her flex her Slayer muscles around his granite-hard erection as she shifted to take him even deeper. She was so hot and tight.  
  
"Christ, gonna make me dust at this rate," Spike moaned. Buffy wasn't capable of speech, she just let out little panting grunts of effort as she bore down, inch-by-inch, until he was completely buried inside her, her ass resting on his muscled thighs. She looked down at the place where they were joined; beads of sweat had formed on her forehead and Spike kissed them away as she stared, mesmerised, at the lewd way her pussy lips bulged around his big cock.  
  
After a few moments of quiet, amazed contemplation, she started to move, lifting herself a few millimetres, experimentally, before dropping down again, making them both moan.  
  
Then she did it again, rising ever so slightly higher. Spike's hands were on her waist, holding her steady as she began to tentatively fuck him. She set the pace, slow at first, but getting bolder and faster with every passing second. She closed her eyes and threw back her head, pushing up her shirt so she could pinch her nipples between her fingers, letting out little throaty moans of pleasure.  
  
The erotic sight of the Slayer playing with her tits while sliding her velvety cunt up and down his cock was almost too much for Spike, but he forced himself to hold it together, refusing to let this end so soon. He gritted his teeth, then reached up and batted Buffy's hands away from her breasts, replacing them with his own. He pulled and tugged on the rosy little nubs, teasing them into hard peaks, making her cry out. She began to ride him even harder, incorporating a slight twist into her hips that sent little dots of white light spiralling across his vision.  
  
Fuck, he wasn't going to be able to hold out much longer at this rate.  
  
Spike's right hand left Buffy's nipple and burrowed between their bodies to find her aching clit. Using his thumb, he started to rub it in firm, neat little circles. Buffy gasped, her eyes flying open, locking with his, seeing herself reflected in their glazed blue depths. The sensation was unbelievable, scorching and electric. She felt as if she was floating outside of time and space, lost in their ancient dance. She let out a series of breathy little moans that were music to his ears, and he increased the pressure even more, feeling her tight channel begin to flutter delightfully around his cock as in response to his touch.  
  
"Oh yeah, that's it sweetheart, fuck, yeah, come for me love," he groaned, feeling his control start to falter as she sped up, her hips lifting and falling jerkily as she reached the final, incredible furlong of their race. Spike matched her tempo, rubbing her frantically, his own desperate moans beginning to mix with hers.  
  
Her first orgasm had been sudden, immense and self-contained; this one built more slowly. She felt it in her toes first of all, then her calves, then her thighs and finally it was crashing over her like a tsunami, her pussy contracting in increasingly powerful waves. She pitched forward onto his chest, burying her face in his neck and biting him as she screamed her release, shaking helplessly with the sheer force of it. Spike followed her over the edge a second later, his cock pulsing and spurting inside her.  
  
They lay there for a few seconds, prone and satiated, his arms wrapped loosely around her warm body.  
  
Then, almost before Spike knew what was happening, she'd lifted himself off his softening prick and was dashing out of the cage, her long skirt falling into place, tugging her shirt down as she ran. As soon as she was outside she span round and slammed the door shut with a crash, managing to lock it and pull out the key a millisecond before his hands reached out through the mesh in an attempt to grab it.  
  
She jumped back out of his reach, and stared into his shocked and furious eyes.  
  
"You fucking bitch," he said, sounding almost amazed.  
  
Buffy took another step back, feeling his come drip down her thigh as she moved. She swallowed, not quite trusting herself to speak.  
  
"So you just did that just to trap me, did you?" he said, his voice tight. He looked sullen and pained.   
  
Buffy shook her head, his hurt affecting her far more deeply than she'd expected.  
  
"No. I did it because I wanted to. I also wanted to get away. Guess you could call it a win-win."  
  
Spike snorted. "Well, you're not exactly going anywhere, are you? Remember what happened last time?"  
  
"This time it'll be different, Spike," she replied. "Because you're going to tell me how to get back to the surface."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "And why, exactly, would I do that, Slayer?" he said, his voice sharp, cruel and cold. She shivered at his tone. It was so different to the soft, reverent, caring way he'd spoken to her just a few moments ago.  
  
"If you don't, I'll kill you," she said, her voice trembling. He laughed.  
  
"Oh yeah, how? Like I said before, not exactly many stakes down here, luv. Made sure of it, in fact."  
  
Buffy turned and walked away from him, moving across to the alcove he'd been sleeping in. He watched as she rounded the corner, a puzzled look on his face. Then he heard the sound of tearing fabric, and his frown deepened.  
  
When she reappeared, she was holding a makeshift Molotov made from his three-quarter full bottle of overproof whisky with a strip of one of his t-shirts stuffed into the neck. In her other hand was his clunky silver lighter.  
  
He backed away from her quickly until he was pressed against the back of the cage.  
  
Buffy raised her chin defiantly.  
  
"Fire still does the trick though, doesn't it?" she said, her lips pressed together into a pale line. Her jaw was twitching, and he could hear her heart hammering in her chest.  
  
"You don't want to do this," he said, flatly. It was a statement of fact rather than a plea. Buffy's nostrils flared, and she took a step closer to the wire mesh.  
  
"Don't call my bluff, Spike," she replied, coolly. "Maybe I don't want to do it. But I will. I put a sword through Angel and sent him to hell. Throwing burning booze all over you will be a walk in the park in comparison. Now spill, how do I get out of here?"  
  
They glared at each other. Spike looked mulish and stubborn. After a few minutes, just as she was about to set the edge of the lighter to the alcohol-soaked rag as a warning she meant business, he gave in.  
  
"Fine," he said, his voice cracking slightly. "Opposite the tunnel that leads to the hot spring you'll find a big rock blocking another entrance. If you can manage to move it, you'll see it leads upwards. Just follow it. There's only one fork - take a left. It'll lead you up to the surface. From there you're on your own. Sure you'll figure it out."  
  
He turned to the tumble mat and started to pull on his clothes roughly, not looking in her direction. Buffy felt a painful stab in her chest. Her body was still vibrating with aftershocks from the world-changing sex she'd just had; more intense and passionate that anything she'd ever imagined.   
  
The way they'd moved together had been like something out of a dream. Yes, she'd wanted him, and yes, she'd had an ulterior motive, but she had no idea it would be like that. Some traitorous part of her didn't want to leave. She desperately wanted to unlock the cage and throw herself at him so they could do it again, and again.  
  
Instead she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then turned and forced herself to walk away. She didn't look back: she knew that if she did, she'd be lost forever. Her heart ached, but she put one leaden foot in front of the other until she was finally beside the concealed exit. It had been a while since her last dose of the Cruciamentum drugs, and she managed to push it out of the way without too much trouble, although she scraped her knuckles painfully and had to pause afterwards to get her breath back.  
  
Once she'd recovered she stood by the tunnel entrance, her back to the cavern. Her spine was prickling - he was watching her. She turned her head to one side, looking half-over her shoulder without making eye contact with him. Her mouth was bone-dry.  
  
"Goodbye, Spike," she said, hoping his vampire hearing would pick up the words. Then she walked away, into the dark.  
  
He was still staring blankly at the spot where he'd last seen her when Harmony finally appeared to give him the good news that their minions had broken into the crypt where the Gem of Amara was stashed.   
  
Spike smiled and stood up, ignoring Harmony's increasingly angry questions about how he'd ended up locked in a cage, and why everything smelled like sex.   
  
His long fingers curled around the wire mesh. As soon as he had that gem, he was definitely going to kill the Slayer. And this time, he'd make sure it _did_ hurt. A lot.  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This was always intended to be a one-shot, but after your kind feedback I decided to turn it into a six part series with the following titles, all taken from NK Jemisin novels. 
> 
> I: Captured in Wires (completed)  
> II: Heat and Pressure (completed)  
> III: Less Than Human  
> IV: A Million Stars  
> V: Harder Still  
> VI: Longing and Relief
> 
> P.S. If you're unfamiliar with NK Jemisin's work, I really recommend her Broken Earth trilogy: it's amazing and deals with themes of oppression and race and love and passion and loss in an incredible sci-fi setting.


End file.
